Echoing Lakes
by EchoMoonHuntress
Summary: Her smile still haunts Sheik.


**A/N: inspired by _Preacher's Daughter_ by Maggie Rose, and I suggest listening to it because this might make more sense after you listen to it.  
I dunno how I feel about this but it took about three weeks of self-motivation to finish this so**

* * *

i.

She is running, her feet being pricked under the sharp reeds and mud sloshing at her feet, splattering her legs, her white dress. An owl is hooting behind her. Her hair is loose, flowing behind her, and she's desperately hoping the night-sky will cover her, camouflage her into nothing. But that's a little hard to do, when a van is on her feet with its headlights on, shining bright, bright, yellow and swathing the golden light just for her.

Keep running, keep running. The person in the van already got her boyfriend, got him in one go and without a second thought. Keep running.

Behind her, she can feel the glare of the headlights, hot and angry; the person behind the wheel is a brown shape, cloaked in darkness, but she knows the identity. It'd be impossible not to know, and that's why it shocks her so much.

Because never in a million years would she have bet that this person would do something entirely this absurd.

Her foot snags on a loose branch, and her skin breaks when it makes contact with the rough gravel. She grunts, tries to pull herself up, but it's too late—

The car's there—

Her blood turns cold.

The footsteps are behind her, nearing closer and closer. She knows she can get up and run away, but her dress is tangled at her legs and her hands sting and she's lost all the adrenaline in her. The chase is over.

(Although she knows it's been over, known who the victor was after her boyfriend. That didn't stop her from trying to delay the victory, and look at what happened.)

She looks up, directly at the person's face, as the features fell into place in the darkness. "I hate you," she snarls; she had never hated her little 'friend' until tonight.

The person lifts a hand up as an answer, and she closes her eyes. She may hate that psycho, but she doesn't want her moments to be much more painful than it already will be.

The sound rings throughout the night, shakes the trees. The owl is still hooting.

* * *

ii.

It has been four months since Lucina Ylisse's disappearance, and the case is going badly.

Sheik isn't on the case—hell, she isn't even a police officer—but her best friend Mac Little is and _he's_ the one who gets the most pissed off at the news about Lucina, so.

They found her boyfriend, face-down in the water, near some sharp, jagged rocks. Sheik went to the spot where he was found, shortly after the discovery of his body; she stayed there all day, even as the sun disappeared and night stretched over the earth.

(The rocks looked like teeth, when painted with coats of darkness. Sharp and pointed and dangerous, they haven't left her nightmares quite yet.)

Now, she sighs, wrapping her arms around her. Mac said he would pick her up, but his truck is old and beat up and _always_ running low on gasoline, somehow. Sheik doesn't really mind the cold, but.

There is a poster, fluttering in the wind, nailed into a telephone pole. The kind of poster that draws your attention, screams big headlines like, _MISSING._ And Sheik knows who the girl is, her bright colors darkened by sepia tones, and her heart lurches every time she glances at the poster.

Lucina Ylisse smiles back, frozen in the photograph. A time where she was happy and carefree, not missing and worrying everyone. Sheik shivers, eyes darting over the lines, the _information_ about where she was last seen.

Last seen, leaving from church. Wearing a pretty white dress. Those details particularly stick out in Sheik's mind, but they mean nothing.

A horn beeps, and she looks over to see Mac's red pickup truck rumbling with energy, idling. She slides in the passenger seat, clicking the seatbelt in place.

"What were you looking at?" he asks, as the truck kicks the dust and picks up speed, farther away from the poster.

She shakes her head. "Nothing," she says. "It doesn't matter."

Lucina's ghostly smile keeps playing in her brain, even as Sheik's eyes watch the countryside blurs past Mac's window. She closes her eyes, and all she can see is Lucina's smile, pale white, rapidly changing black until the midnight cloak hides her completely.

* * *

In town, she runs into Robin and Marth; the former looks exhausted, slumped in a chair and a mug of coffee in his hands. His blue hair is flecked with grey, and Sheik wonders how he must feel, losing his only granddaughter and not knowing her whereabouts. That's the worst part, she figures. Not knowing if she was dead or alive, clinging to a ghostly hope.

"Samus Aran is on the case," Robin says encouragingly, when Sheik catches up to them. "She's capable, and she's sent Mac out to do most of it—you know Mac's caught many criminals. He's one of the most reliable people we know."

Marth is staring in his mug, at the brown liquid swirling around and around. He starts, hollowly, "Robin-"

Robin looks up, and meets Sheik's eyes. He smiles slightly. "Hey, girlie," he says. "How's Lil' Mac?"

She shrugs, jerking her head to the side. She likes Robin, she does, he's really nice, almost like a perfect man, but Mac doesn't like him that much. " _Too_ perfect," he'd often say, snorting into his coffee. "Nothing can go wrong for him, which means there's something off about him."

Robin nods, understanding. Marth keeps staring into his mug, the steam unfurling in the air in wispy strands. Sheik closes her eyes, and sees Lucina in her head again.

"I best be going," Robin says quietly, ruffling Marth's hair. "It'll get better, 'kay?"

He ambles off, and Marth's eyes finally level up from his drink; his electric blue eyes meet Sheik's blazing red ones. "I know he's just trying to help," he growls, tilting his head back and letting the brown liquid wash down his throat, "but he's really _not_."

"Sorry," Sheik says, even though it's not her fault; _none_ of is her fault. Marth nods imperceptibly.

"They found her boyfriend dead," he says, and Sheik slides in the chair across from him. She knows all of these details, of course, but she knows better than to tell Marth this; he's hurting and grieving and she doesn't want to seem _cocky_ of all things. "And they can't find Lucina. I think she might be alive, somewhere, but that's just a sliver of hope. I'm not _stupid_. If her boyfriend was dead, then she probably is too." His voice cracks, nearly breaks, and he looks back at his mug. Sheik bites her lip and curls a strand of hair around her finger and feels _sorry_ for him, of all things. Sorrow, and pity, and all these other emotions jumbled up.

Marth looks back up at her. "I just want her to _come home_ ," he confesses, and then his voice really _does_ break, shatter into a million pieces. He pushes himself out of the chair and walks off, eyes downcast on the ground. Sheik watches him go, and then slides out of the chair and heads off in the opposite direction, towards the police station.

She is halfway there when she passes another telephone pole; there are two posters on it, one of them plastered about Lucina. Sheik's eyes slide down below her poster, at the advertisement; it's an explosion of dusky purple, loopy handwriting scribbled in white. _FORTUNE TELLER,_ it says. _COME ONE, COME ALL._

Sheik stares for a moment, and then snatches it, tearing it off the hook and crumpling it in her pocket. She's not sure if she believes in magic or not and it may just be a scam, a fake, but one last look at Lucina's face and she has made up her mind.

* * *

iii.

"Tcch, I can't believe someone actually read my advertisement. That was _so_ tacky."

Palutena Light gives them a scathing look, as though it's Sheik's fault that _she_ hung up the advertisement. Next to her, Mac shifts uncomfortably; magic and fortunes are _definitely_ not his thing and he probably finds it lame but Sheik doesn't care. Marth's words are circling around in her head and Lucina's beautiful face is smiling in her mind and maybe logic isn't the way to find her. Maybe it takes magic and risks.

But Palutena, for a fortune teller, does not seem very magical-esque. Her hair is green, sure, and she wears an eyepatch, and her white dress is long and gauzy, but really, her personality does not differ Sheik's twin sister's, all that much. Still, she slides across from Sheik and Mac, gesturing her hands widely; golden bracelets fall against each other, a loud clinking noise in her tarp of a house.

"And to what do I owe to this occasion? Perhaps you want to see your future? Or a prophecy? Palm-reading, maybe?"

Sheik props her elbows on the table. "Close," she says. "We want to hear something about Lucina Ylisse."

Palutena raises an eyebrow; the candlelight suddenly flickers on her face, casting orange shadows and giving her a spooky look. "Lucina Ylisse…the missing girl."

Sheik shifts forward.

"Sheik," Mac murmurs, and she tries to look at him but she can't make out his face in the lighting.

Palutena chuckles, very lightly, and the crystal ball in front of her glows, smoky gray. Shadows cover her face completely, but her eyes glow white in the darkness. Her fingernails incase the ball; they are long and spindly, sharp and filed.

"She's not coming back," she rasps, and Sheik feels her stomach plummet. "But she hasn't gone far, I can assure you."

Mac's voice is hesitant, peeking out of the dark. "What about her boyfriend? His killer, I mean."

Palutena closes her eyes. "Well, for one, the killer is a liar," she says, her mouth twisting at the edges in a sick, sick, smile. "A dirty, dirty, liar. And he drives a car, somewhere in the streets of Smash County."

She cackles, and the lights turn back on.

"Well! That was fun. In any case, I am so happy you stopped by. Do come again!"

The tarp flutters behind the two when they step out, and Mac says, quietly, "Sheik, I'm not sure if that really helped the case."

Sheik closes her eyes. The sun's rays are bright and hot, even as they are slowly being diminished. "Now _that's_ the load of bullshit, Mac," she says, and opens her eyes to greet the dying sunlight.

* * *

Lucina's boyfriend has a proper funeral, an eulogy and everything. Sheik never spoke to him and neither did Mac, but Samus sends Mac on to the funeral for the case, and Sheik owes him one for Palutena, so.

She pulls on her best black dress and ties her hair in a side-braid, wrapping a black scarf around her. Mac raises an eyebrow when he sees her, but comments nothing.

The funeral is hot and long, under the unforgiving sun; Mac brings Hunter along, because he _can_ , and the dog growls and barks so much that Sheik has to take him to the car and roll down the windows so the eulogy can continue properly. When she returns, she is able to see Robin's silver hair, almost white under the sun, sitting next to Marth. It kind of makes sense; Marth always did like Lucina's boyfriend, and Robin is Marth's good friend, so there's that.

And it's really much to Sheik's surprise, as to everyone else's, when Lucina's boyfriend's mother extends a hand to Marth and asks him to come up, please. The blue-haired man presses his lips together and looks around wildly and shakes his head _no_ , so Robin steps up in his place.

Mac tenses in his seat. Sheik places a hand on his shoulder, and looks carefully at Robin. His eyes scavenge the entire funeral; they are full of sadness and pity and—something else, something that Sheik doesn't have a word for. And it looks kind of scary, and it sends a chill up her spine, and for a moment she can't quite remember how to breathe, and just lets the fear consume her body for one second. It's like the world stops working, just for one second, and when it ticks by, everything reverts back to normal. She presses a hand to her forehead, and finds her breathing coming up ragged and shallow.

And Robin? He says, "We would like to take a moment to pray for Marth's granddaughter."

* * *

"He's full of it," Mac says, shortly after the funeral; they're sitting in his police car, in the middle of _nowhere_ , and Hunter is asleep in the back. He snores when he sleeps, a weird sound that interferes with Sheik's thoughts. Specifically, those thoughts of Robin's hazel eyes, swirling with emotion and colors and something haunting.

"He liked her," Sheik replies, gently stroking Hunter's head. "His words were sincere, I like to think."

Mac snorts, sinks in the chair. "I don't know. Why do you think Marth refused to talk, anyways?"

Sheik stares at the fields swaying in the wind. They are long, straw-colored, and they bend with will, twisting backwards and then loping forward once more, only to greet the wind pushing them back down. "I don't think he wants any more reminders of what he's missing," she says.

Mac shrugs, his head falling against his seat. It is quiet for a second, and then he speaks up. "This case sickens me," he confesses, voice stinging with venom and disgust and _fear_. "She was—is, I don't know— a good girl, Lucina. And it's pretty damn awful that someone would just take her and leave worry in her wake. Whoever did it probably did it on purpose like that, you know? She's a good person, and that's what is screwed up. Because _she wouldn't leave on purpose._ "

Rain starts to fall. It pelts the car window, fat, splotchy drops sliding on the glass. Sheik watches each drop splatter against the window, as Mac's words fill the car.

"If that fortune teller wasn't sleazy, if she was _right_ , then just—messed _up_. Lucina's boyfriend had a killer, and he's walking in broad daylight and I hate not knowing who it is, and everyone hates not knowing Lucina's fate, and-"

Sheik catches his elbow, carefully. " _Mac_ ," she interrupts, firmly. "I know."

He slumps in his seat, puts his face in his hands. "This is horrible," he mumbles through his hands.

Sheik bites her lip. "I know," she repeats, and angrily, bitterly, refuses to cry. "I know."

* * *

It's somewhere between _late at night_ and _really early morning_ when Mac calls Sheik; whatever the case is, the world is still drowned in blackness, and Sheik is still half-asleep when her fingers slide against the receiver, trying to press answer.

"You've got to get down here," Mac says when she picks up, no _hello_ or _how are you_ , which tips Sheik off that something is wrong, something big is happening and she has almost slept through it.

"Where?" she mumbles groggily, raking her fingers through her blonde hair. She stares at her alarm clock; it glares back at her, in big, red, block numbers, 2:03. "Crap, Mac, it's two in the morning."

"Get down to Fisherman's Lake right now." Mac's voice is excited, tinted with fear, and he sounds so awake it makes Sheik wonder if he ever did fall asleep. "I think—I think we found her."

Sheik shoots out of bed; her blonde hair tumbles in knots down her back and her heart is beating fast, very, very fast. "Found—who?"

A pause. And then Mac says, urgently, " _Lucina._ "

Sheik glances out the window. All lights are off, no distant light flicked on the distance; funny how some people can be asleep, slumbering in peace while the world moves on without them. Dimly, she knows she has to get ready, go down to Fisherman's Lake, but her mind is stuck in a haze, Lucina's face emerging from the fog only to be sucked back in.

"Sheik?" Mac's voice crackles on the line. "You still here?"

Sheik pushes her bangs away from her face. "Don't worry," she tells him. "I'm coming."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, she's hanging in the riverbanks of Fisherman's Lake, teeth chattering against the cold; she's wearing a scarf and a ratty old sweatshirt, but it's clearly not enough for the gusts of winds howling in her ear. That doesn't matter, though, because she's not here for the cold; she's here for Lucina and Mac and a mystery that is about to be answered, right about now.

There is a crowd, Sheik observes, as she cranes her neck looking at all the citizens. She even sees Marth, face concealed by shadows, and tries not to wonder on what he's about to go through with the news.

Mac is pacing at the water's edge, dressed in uniform; he makes eye contact with Sheik briefly, briefly, before turning to speak to Samus Aran. She nods, once, and he steps back.

A car emerges from the water first, like a ghost; its paint has worn off, rusted and slimy, a patch of seaweed slapped on the front part. Sheik leans forward, toes slightly poised forwards, trying to get a better look when—

Her body is dragged out of the water, and Sheik claps a hand to her mouth.

The sea creature that emerged looks nothing like Lucina. Her skin is ashen, gray with tinges of green, and her hair is tangled and colorless, having lost its blue hue. The once beautiful teenage girl is now a hideous sea creature, hidden in the depths of Fisherman's Lake.

Dimly, Sheik can hear other people crying, and she hears footsteps walking away, assuming it's Marth, but all Sheik can do is just stare at the body, stare hard and long.

Around her, the cold is biting and merciless, but not nearly as cruel as this crime.

* * *

iv.

"So, a nice old man named Dr. Mario has looked at Lucina," Mac says, the following day. His eyes are tired, face creased with worry lines. Sheik pushes her cup of coffee towards him, and he takes it gratefully.

Sheik smirks, tips her beanie cap at him. "Isn't this supposed to be a _private_ investigation?"

"You won't tell anyone," Mac says, like _that_ makes everything okay. And it is true, Sheik reflects, but still, she thinks he really should not tell her everything. All these thoughts don't stop him, though. "She was missing an earring. Samus thinks the criminal behind this killed her, kept the earring as a memory, and then…you know."

Sheik sighs. Outside, the sky is slowly lighting on fire, the rays creeping through the windows. "Do you have any suspects in mind?"

Mac slumps in his seat. "No. We're interviewing all those close to her, though—I think Robin is still suspicious, but that's probably personal bias."

"Sometimes I wonder how you are a police officer, with all your personal grudges," Sheik teases, reaching over and running her fingers through his hair. Mac snorts and pushes her hand away, gently.

"Ha, ha. You're so funny."

There's not really much to say at this point, because nothing is so funny these days. So when they leave, there's a thick coat of silence between them, and it's not like Sheik minds because she likes things good, _nicequietpeaceful_ above all else, except something's wrong. There's a high string of tension slashing through the air, a jagged scar running through the peacefulness in Smash County. And it's too high to be ignored, now.

* * *

Mac curses when they reach his truck. "Well, that's just great. I forgot to refill the gasoline."

Sheik tilts her lips up in a mock smile. "You're such an _idiot_ , sometimes, Mac."

"Shut up, will you?"

Robin strolls into view around this time; the sunlight weaves into his hair, turning his white hair silver. "Having trouble?" he asks, cheerfully and kindly. This, of course, does not help Mac's mood at all.

He straightens to full height. "No."

Sheik smirks at how small he is compared to Robin, but that's not the time to discuss it. She pushes her way up towards Robin, and says, "Mac forgot to fill his truck with gas. Could you give us a ride, or something? You have a tow truck, if I remember correctly."

She does, and he hitches the truck up for them because he's nice like that, good and neighborly. A good townsman, Sheik thinks dryly, as Mac scoffs and grumbles to himself and reluctantly climbs in Robin's passenger seat.

When the truck starts to pull away, scenery becoming colorful strokes out the window, Mac asks, "Are you happy they found Lucina, Robin?" His voice is level, and Sheik tries to shoot him a warning glance; _don't push it._

He doesn't notice her.

Robin peers through the rearview window; Sheik can see his expression, painted in the reflection. "Of course," he says. "I'm happy they found her, and I'm happy for Marth in that regard."

His mouth says one thing, but his eyes say something else. It sends chills up Sheik's spine, and she recalls the funeral; that speech, the funny look in his eyes—

She falls back against the seat, and her hand lands on something that hooks under her skin, sending a prickle of pain through her body. Sheik winces, just a bit, and pulls the item carefully out of her hand. It wasn't sharp enough to draw blood, just an old earring, dangly and light blue, sparkling when the sunlight hits it. Sheik rolls it over in her hand, recalling Marth's granddaughter once wearing these at a festival in town.

Then it strikes her, like a bolt of lightning. It makes Sheik's blood run cold, and she drops the earring in her lap.

"Sheik, you're being real quiet," Robin says, and his eyes catch hers. She looks like a deer in headlights, Sheik can see, through the mirror. "You all right?"

Sheik looks at the earring, stranded on her lap, and back up at Robin. He looks curious, genuinely concerned about her. How good of a liar he is. Palutena did say that, after all; this does not make Sheik feel any less terrified.

She drops her hand to her lap, encasing the earring in her hand. "I'm fine," she says, her voice coming out strong and even. "Just fine."

The rest of the car ride is incredibly awkward, but not silent. Sheik's heart thrashes against her chest, blood roaring in her ears, and dimly she is aware of Robin trying to make small talk with Mac, only receiving terse answers from her best friend. She kind of understands why Mac never liked Robin now. Something was off about him, and now she understands why.

They reach the gas station, and Robin kills the gas quickly, hopping out of his truck. Sheik exhales, leaning forward; Mac remains sitting in the truck, eyes focused feverishly on the car in front of them. She taps his shoulder, and when he turns around, she reaches for his arm and opens his palm. She drops the earring in it.

Mac frowns, turns it over in his hand. "Why-"

Sheik waits. She's not really a patient girl and she knows that Robin will be back any moment and there is a risk he will catch them, but she has never been good at explaining things and Mac is smart but slow. She drums her fingers against the metal handle, cool and slick in her hands, incase she needs to make a quick escape.

Mac's eyes widen after a moment, and he starts to say, "Holy-"

Sheik shakes her head, reaches over to silence him. "I think," she suggests, phrasing it that way instead of a command, "we should get out of here, and you call Samus."

He nods, hands slipping on the car handle in a struggle to open it. Sheik slides out of the tow truck gracefully, quietly, and saunters over to Mac's car, climbing in the tailgate and sitting against the truck's hood. His truck is familiar to her, in a sense; she breathes in, and tries to steady her hands from shaking.

She allows her head to fall against the red paint, and closes her eyes. When she opens them, blue lights flash in her eyes, and a crowd has gathered, their expressions alike. They all look shocked, and Sheik twists her head around to see a shadow of a figure, hiding in the backseat of a police car.

"Sheik?" Mac appears; there is a hint of a smile whispering on his face. "Did you fall asleep in my truck?"

Sheik rolls her eyes at him. "It's comfy," she says, and crawls down to join him, feet hitting the pavement. There is no reason to be up there anymore.

* * *

v.

The arrest of Robin Rufure spreads through the town like wildfire, and Sheik can't escape it.

His name is plastered on every newspaper, a detailed article on his arrest. He surrendered quickly and quietly, not trying to fight his way out of this one. Sheik likes to think that it's because he was out of tricks to pull from up his sleeve, no tactics left, but truthfully, she doesn't know and expects she won't ever know. Robin is tricky like that.

No one knows that she found the earring; Mac knows his best friend would have hated the attention for 'catching' Robin, so he lied and said that he and Samus had been investigating when they found the earring. Sheik is grateful, and she knows that she owes him one, but it's not the time to think about that.

Her head is bent low against the sinking sun, skirting around the grass as she enters the big, black gates. There is no one in sight; this should make Sheik feel afraid, but she is relieved instead. No one to bother her here, no one talking about Robin's arrest, no one talking about how Lucina and her boyfriend were justified at last.

Lovely.

Sheik stops by a tall headstone, just as the calm waters of the sky fade away to an angry fire. She breathes in the clean air, and with the dim light the sun provides, she is able to read the headstone.

HERE LIES LUCINA, A FRIEND TO US ALL.

With trembling fingers, Sheik leaves the white rose on the headstone. It looks bright and significant, lying on the dark grass. She stands up, taking the sight in. Above, the sky is recovering from the scorches, the rosy pinks settling in to heal the burns.

Sheik exhales, and turns on her heel to leave. For a moment, she thinks she hears a wisp of a laugh, but when she whirls around, there is no one there.

She shrugs and keeps on walking. If she had looked back once more, maybe she would have seen that her white rose disappeared from the grave, and was being held in the arms of a ghostly girl, hovering and smiling at her retreating back.

And then the sun withdraws from the sky, and the girl dissolves into nothing, and the night sky falls into place, and life keeps going on, like nothing ever happened.


End file.
